


Of Bobby Pins and Elastic Bands

by imfallingforyoureyes102



Series: On the Outside Looking In [11]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: CEOliver, EA Felicity, Eventual Oliver Queen/Felicity Smoak, F/M, Fluff, Jealous Laurel Lance, Mutual Pining, Past Laurel Lance/Oliver Queen, cute olicity, outside looking in
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-24
Updated: 2020-02-24
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:01:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22872913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imfallingforyoureyes102/pseuds/imfallingforyoureyes102
Summary: Oliver lets out a surprised yelp as Felicity turns suddenly.“Jesus Christ, Felicity,” he grunts, trying not to rip her hair out as the movement tugs at a knot. He grabs the sides of her head firmly and turns her forward, and she tilts back a bit to catch Oliver’s eye.“Gotta be faster than that, Big Guy.”Oliver scoffs, running his fingers through the recently detangled curl and watching the way the golden strand slips between his fingers.(Or, when Felicity's caught in a downpour thatruinsher hair, Oliver casually offers up his braiding expertise, and it's to the scene of Oliver in his best Italian suit dragging a comb through Felicity’s unruly curls that Laurel Lance is greeted with when she steps away from the elevators and onto the executive floor.)
Relationships: Oliver Queen/Felicity Smoak
Series: On the Outside Looking In [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1319063
Comments: 43
Kudos: 556





	Of Bobby Pins and Elastic Bands

**Author's Note:**

> I'm gonna be honest, I'm not sure how I feel about this one. I've had the idea for a while and could have definitely made it better if I sat on it for a bit longer, but I really just wanted to get it out. 
> 
> I had a little trouble interweaving Laurel into this - I originally had it written where it was just some random interaction with Oliver and Felicity with really no one else - but I wanted to squeeze Laurel in there somehow. The ending doesn't really sit too well with me, it seems kinda not like how I normally tend to finish things, but I just wanted to post this and hope that it turned out okay. 
> 
> ALSO while these fics are all kinda in the same 'verse, it's not super strict. Like in the previous story, Laurel did _not_ like Felicity but in this one, she's kind of indifferent. Don't take everything to seriously, I never do!  
> (I may end up redoing this one and reposting, but we'll see!)
> 
> Anyway, please enjoy and let me know what you think!
> 
> WAIT!! 
> 
> Can I just say THANK YOU thank you thank you for the AMAZING response on the last installment of this series? I literally want to cry every time I think about it. You guys are incredible and it warms my heart so so much to read every single one of your comments. I know I haven't gotten around to responding to all of them, but I definitely will. I am so happy when I am on this site - I feel so at home when I read your kind words. So so so much love for you all. :,)

Laurel taps her fingers impatiently on the boardroom table as she tries to mask yet another sigh. Sure, she’s grateful – entirely, totally, completely grateful – that her boss had pulled her onto this case. It’s not everyday that a brand new, inexperienced lawyer gets to work behind the scenes of a Fortune 500 Company, let alone QC, and while she is upset that the case will put a bit of a stopper on her efforts to help those less fortunate, this is something that her boss had _requested_ and she can’t exactly say no to him without wishing her entire career away.

Besides, she’s helping those less fortunate in a way. This meeting _is_ about allocating some of QC’s revenue towards helping the Glades, after all.

Still, it’s entirely too boring and, as Laurel glances down at her watch, she can’t help but think that it’s much too long.

Laurel stifles another yawn as she lets her eyes flash over to Oliver’s office. He’s been in there a little over an hour – only a few minutes longer than they had been there – and she allows herself a second to take in the slight furrow of his brow as his eyes scan over the stack of papers before him. She’d offered him a seat at the meeting – it was his company after all – but he had turned it down with a shy smile, saying something about the monstrosities of legal jargon and how they’d probably get more done if he wasn’t in the room slowing them down.

He’s more right than wrong, but she still wishes that he would have said yes. The meeting would be a _lot_ more fun if he had -,

“Isn’t that right, Ms. Lance?”

Laurel rips her gaze from Oliver, her eyes settling on Mr. Emmerson at the head of the table. She nods her head emphatically, thanking the Lord that the skills she had developed during college that allowed her to multitask _really_ well were still present.

“Absolutely, sir.”

Her boss shoots her an approving smile that she mirrors, and Laurel reaches down for her pen before she starts scribbling down notes as the meeting’s pace picks up.

* * *

Oliver scrubs at his eyes.

He’s tired – so _damn tired._

Last night had been an _event_ if nothing else. He, Felicity, and Digg had managed to bring down the most recent drug dealer terrorizing the Glades with an amplified version of heroin, and while the end of the night had been a success, getting to it had been brutal.

Oliver had acted a little too quickly, despite both Digg and Felicity’s warning, and had almost gotten himself stuck with a syringe full of the drug. It was Felicity’s quick thinking that had saved them – her cutting the lights in the abandoned warehouse was probably the only thing that had kept him out of a coffin and alive for Felicity’s loud voice.

So, even though he can barely keep his eyes open today, he’d rather that then the alternative.

Oliver’s pulled from his thoughts when he hears a bark of laughter echo through the building. It’s Digg’s voice, and from the small chuckle that follows, he knows that it must be aimed at a certain Felicity Smoak. He shakes it off and tries to finish reading the tedious arrangement of jargon in front of him, but then he hears a comment aimed at Digg that’s so snarky and _so_ Felicity that the document is long forgotten.

It’s only when he looks up and sees Felicity absolutely drenched, head to toe, that he lets out a shout of laughter of his own. He sees the quick turn of heads in the boardroom next to him at the sudden burst of noise, but his attention in one hundred percent on the scene in front of him.

His amusement is over in seconds, though, because Felicity is spinning on her heel and flying towards him, her finger jabbing into his chest in record time.

“Not a word, Oliver Queen, or I swear to God I’ll send your phone number to every Ollie Queen fansite that exists.” 

Oliver’s own hands fly up in surrender instantly, his lips pressed tightly together as he tries and fails to stave off the smile that’s threatening to break through.

He takes in a deep breath as he tilts his head to the side and takes in Felicity’s appearance.

Her hair is – it’s - ,

“Outrageous, I know,” Felicity finishes off Oliver’s thought with an exasperated sigh. She spins around and looks at Diggle, who has an equally amused expression on his face, and unsuccessfully tries to smooth down her hair. She lets out a small growl when nothing happens and stalks the length of the floor to her desk, tossing down her purse and falling dramatically into her chair.

“My mother’s in town and we’re going to dinner right after I leave work and my hair was perfect, guys, absolutely freaking _perfect_ and then. it. fracking. _rained,”_ Felicity punctuates each word with a jab to her keyboard as she powers her computer on for the day.

She’s lost in thought as she mutters to herself, the crinkle between her eyebrows more prominent than ever. Oliver flashes a look at Diggle, eyes so bright with laughter that it takes _years_ off his face, but Diggle just raises his hands up in defeat, putting distance between himself and the steaming blonde.

Diggle’s a smart man, after all.

Oliver isn’t, but he learned that a long time ago, and so he signs his death wish as he moves until his thighs are pressing lightly into the front of her desk. He stands there, arms crossed loosely across his chest, as he watches Felicity root around in her purse.

“I love my Mom, I do. But she’ll have a field day if I walk into the restaurant looking like one of those Trolls from that Justin Timberlake movie,” Felicity mutters, more to herself than anyone.

Oliver holds his breath for a second, scared that whatever words come out of his mouth may sound more amused than anything, but then Felicity runs her hand through her hair in frustration and Oliver’s struck by how much he likes the way her fingers snag on the unruly curls.

“Stupid rain, stupid trolls –,”

“Why don’t you just,” Oliver pauses and then shrugs. “I don’t know, fix it?”

Felicity freezes, her muttering halted for a second as she slowly lets her gaze fall onto Oliver.

“Right,” she snaps, and Oliver has enough curtesy to take a frightened step back. Felicity’s eyes soften a bit before she continues. “Fixing _this,_ ” she gestures to her hair, “will take too much time. Time I need to use to finish running those decryptions.”

Felicity finishes her sentence with a dramatic whisper, eyes flashing to the meeting going on in the boardroom. Oliver quirks an eyebrow at Felicity, and she rolls her eyes at him.

She sighs.

“It’s fine,” she says. “I’ll just put it up in a bun or something. It’s not like my mother will disown me.” Felicity laughs before tilting her head in question, a horrified expression painting her features. “Right?”

It’s Oliver’s turn to roll his eyes as he moves to step around her desk.

“Well, I don’t really have anything to do right now,” Oliver lies outright, knowing full well that it was Felicity who had put the stack of papers with a _“Read ASAP”_ panda sticky note on his desk. “I could - ,”

“What,” Felicity interrupts with a small laugh. “Take over the decryption? You’re a capable guy, Oliver. I’ll give you that. You’re _really_ good at arrowing and being all Mr. Grr when we need it, but I don’t think I could teach you _anything_ along the lines of decryption and computer science and hacking in the next few hours. Or days.” Felicity tilts her head to the side, eyes wide with contemplation as she murmurs more to herself than anyone else, “Honestly, probably not even in _years - ,”_

“Hey,” Oliver interjects, the affronted tone in his voice softened by the amused smile on his face. Felicity’s eyebrows shoot up and she presses her lips together in a firm line.

“Again. _Really_ capable.”

Oliver snorts, and Felicity feels a flash of victory spread through her body. Felicity can count the number of times she’s seen Oliver smile – _really_ smile – on one hand, and even though he’s not exactly smiling right now, the way he gently jabs his finger into her side at her remark – the way the jerk lets out small, breathtaking giggle when she yelps at his actions – makes Felicity feel like she’d just won a Noble Prize.

Making Oliver Queen act as young as he is can be an Olympic Sport. The man carries the weight of the world and some more on his back.

“I was _going_ to say,” Oliver starts, leaning over Felicity to grab at the comb on her desk, “That I could brush your hair while _you_ , Miss Only Person in the World that Can Work a Computer, finished the decryptions.”

Felicity huffs, trying with every fiber of her being to stifle the giddy laugh that she so desperately wants to let out. She spins in her chair enough to catch Oliver’s eye, and when she sees his goofy lopsided grin, she can’t hold it in any longer.

She shakes her head, the echoes of her laughter dancing around the room like the sun.

It’s this burst of noise that hits Laurel as Mr. Emmerson holds the boardroom door open for her. They drift toward the elevators, but when her boss gets an urgent phone call, it’s Laurel he asks to stay behind and thank their gracious host.

Laurel’s halfway through the elevator bank when she hears Oliver’s voice echo through the room, and it sounds so lighthearted and carefree that it takes her breath away. Laurel pauses in the shadows so that she’s just out of view, and the scene that greets her pulls at something in her chest so hard and fast that for a second she can’t move.

Oliver’s standing behind Ms. Smoak’s desk, a _hairbrush_ raised in the air, and Felicity is spun around and facing Oliver with a goofy smile painting her features.

Laurel watches as the two stare at each other for a good minute – watches as the intensity of Oliver’s stare causes a flush to spread over Felicity’s cheeks.

The blonde spins around quickly, fingers flying back to the keyboard.

“I didn’t really peg you for a hairdresser, Oliver,” Laurel hears Felicity says as the blonde turns her attention back to her computer screen.

“I’ll have you know,” Oliver says stepping forward, dragging the comb gently through the strands of Felicity’s hair. “That I can do _so_ much more than brush hair.”

Felicity’s small _hmm_ fills the air, and the familiarity and _intimacy_ that surrounds their actions is unmistakable.

_Oliver is brushing Felicity’s hair._

Laurel pulls in a deep breath.

“Really,” Oliver’s voice sounds. “I can do ponytails, braids, I even know how to do curls _without_ heat,” Oliver brags casually, his hands finding an easy rhythm in gliding the comb through her hair.

Felicity goes to turn and look at Oliver again, and incredulous look plastered on her face, but Oliver quickly grabs the sides of her head and sets her straight.

“Felicity,” he cuts out. “Unless you want me to rip out your hair, don’t move.”

Felicity ignores him.

“Braids? Curls? How?”

“I have a sister, you know.”

“But you did her hair?”

Oliver’s ministrations pause for a second and Laurel holds her breath. She knew this little tidbit of information, but only because Tommy had told her. Ollie had never been keen on sharing things like that with her, even when they were dating.

“Every day,” he says softly, as if lost in thought. “At least until she started doing it on her own.”

Oliver sets his focus back on Felicity’s hair, mouth pressed firmly together in concentration as he works at a particularly tough knot.

“My Mom was always a bit too busy for something as unimportant as elementary school hair-dos and my dad couldn’t tell the difference between a hair tie and a bobby pin.” Oliver’s hand yanks a little too hard and while Felicity doesn’t even flinch, Laurel doesn’t miss Oliver’s quiet “ _sorry”_ and the way he gently massages his thumb into the area for a few seconds.

“Raisa was the one who taught me how to do it, but after a while it kind of became our thing. I’d get up, get ready for school, and by the time I was done, Thea’d be in my room with her hairbrush and glittery clips and whatever hairstyle request she’d want for the day.”

Laurel watches Oliver shrug, taken aback my how much he was saying with such little effort.

“It’s stupid but - ,”

“It’s incredible, Oliver.” Felicity says, and the sincerity in her voice seems to be built on a relationship far more solid than simple CEO and EA. “You’re an incredible big brother. Then _and_ now.”

Laurel doesn’t really know how she feels as she watches the two interact. Sure, she’s done her best at pushing Oliver away ever since he’d returned from the island. But then they’d had their little dance – their little moments where Laurel had actually thought that maybe they could be a _them_ again.

But as she watches Oliver gently set Felicity’s comb down – as she watches him glide his fingers through her hair with a look so tender and content – she realizes that whatever moments they’d had were long over.

Laurel was _Ollie’s_ past.

She wonders how she will fit into Oliver’s future.

Laurel’s ripped from her thoughts when Oliver lets out a small yelp as Felicity turns suddenly.

“Jesus Christ, Felicity,” Oliver grunts, trying not to rip her hair out as the movement tugs at a knot. He grabs the sides of her head firmly and turns her forward, and she tilts back a bit to catch Oliver’s eye.

“Gotta be faster than that, Big Guy.”

Oliver scoffs, running his fingers through the recently detangled curl and watching the way the golden strand slips between his fingers. Oliver brings the comb back up, starting at another knot, when Felicity jumps.

“Fe-li-ci-ty.”

“ _Sorry.”_

Oliver continues running the comb through her hair for a few more seconds before throwing his hands up in exasperation, a half amused half maddened laugh falling from his lips as Felicity continues to fidget.

“What is it?” Oliver questions, always to the point. His hands are still running through Felicity’s hair as she turns sheepishly, her eyes overflowing with curiosity.

“It’s just,” Felicity starts, and Laurel tenses. There’s a sly, teasing smile tugging at Felicity’s lips and Laurel is once again reminded of a relationship that she had always craved with Oliver, but never had. “If you’re all good with the hair stuff, does that mean you’re a package deal? Facemasks, nails, the whole shebang? Cause I had to miss my pedicure appointment when some big grumpy idiot decided it’d be a good idea to sprint down an unlit street when there was _ice_ on the ground and the only feet action I got that night was wrapping _your_ ankle instead of painting my toes and _that_ is the only true crime I can see in this story, Oliver, and -,”

Felicity tilts her head backwards, glancing up at Oliver where he stands above her with a small smile tugging at the edges of his lips.

“What?”

“Nothing,” Oliver says, quirking an eyebrow in nonchalance, but it comes out more like a whisper and suddenly Laurel can’t take standing there any longer. Oliver’s still staring at Felicity, and she’s staring at him, and there’s a handful of Felicity’s hair in Oliver’s hand and Laurel is a thousand times sure that Oliver had never looked at her with that much adoration ever before. 

She swallows hard, shaking her shoulders and rolling her neck as she tries to fight off the wave of longing that crashes through her.

When she looks up, Oliver’s got a hairband trapped between his teeth as his hands work an intricate braid into Felicity’s hair. The two are still holding a steady conversation, Oliver laughing and chatting with ease around the small elastic band, and Laurel starts towards them with the intention of leaving as quickly as possible.

Her heart skips a beat when Oliver’s eyes flash up to hers.

His muffled “Hi, Laurel!” is paired with a bright smile and a cheerful voice as he twists away at Felicity’s hair, and it’s the lightness in his tone – the way he offers a fond laugh at whatever Felicity says as he waves Laurel over towards him that cements a few facts into Laurel’s mind.

While she may be hurting right now, Oliver isn’t.

Not with Felicity.

The worry lines and the tightness of his jaw are nowhere in sight. His eyes are bright and he moves with a youthfulness that Laurel hasn’t seen in _years_ and, yeah, it sucks that it isn’t her that’s responsible for it. But as her eyes meet Felicity’s – as the IT expert’s smile widens as she waves a small “hello” in her direction - Laurel can’t help but feel a swell of gratitude for the blonde in front of her.

While a Chinese freighter ship had brought Oliver back from the island, it had been Felicity who had brought Oliver back to them.

“Hey Ollie, Felicity,” Laurel starts, nodding her head in greeting towards Mr. Diggle. She turns her attention back to Oliver, her eyes following the way Oliver winds the hairband around the end of the braid. “Emmerson and Berretti just wanted me to thank you for letting them use the boardroom. We’ll have the documents sent over by tonight at the latest.”

Oliver shoots her a small smile, his hands absentmindedly playing with the ends of Felicity’s hair.

“Anytime, Laurel. Thanks for the help.”

He offers no explanation for their actions – shows no sign of awkwardness or shock at being caught with his hands tangled in his executive assistant’s hair. He stands there, more at ease with his current situation than any other Laurel’s seen him in since he’d returned from the island.

Laurel nods, smoothing her coat down before turning to leave.

“Nice braid,” she says softly, and the way Felicity beams at her has a set of hot tears threatening to spill over, heartache and acceptance battling for dominance within her. She waves one last goodbye before hurrying out the door.

Four years later, when little Anya Queen sits patiently in front of her as she braids her hair, listening earnestly to her Uncle Tommy’s captivating bedtime story while Oliver and Felicity are out at dinner, Laurel wonders why she ever felt so sad.

**Author's Note:**

> Please please please comment and let me know your thoughts, they give me life!!


End file.
